Shades of Rainbows
by whirlwinds of watercolours
Summary: A drabble collection, spanning a wide variety of characters/pairings, ratings, and genres.
1. Hatred of Winter

**Title: Hatred of Winter**

**Summary: Tom Riddle hates winter for several reasons.**

**Character (s): Tom Riddle**

**Rating: K**

**Word Count: 449**

**Written For: One Character Competition, Christmas Boot Camp, Favourite Hogwarts House Boot Camp; Favourite Character Boot Camp; Diagon Alley Challenge: Leaky Cauldron; Honeydukes Competition: Ice Mice.**

**A/N: This is my drabble collection, where I put all the random drabbles I come up with. Shades of Rainbows because it spans a variety of characters, genres, ratings, and etc.**

**Thanks to my beta _VenusInHerHair_!**

* * *

Tom Marvolo Riddle hated winter with a burning passion.

Sitting by the windowsill in his tiny, shared bedroom, he glared outside his window. It would have been a picturesque view of a beautiful village covered by a blanket of glistening snow, if not for the children running around the yard of the orphanage having a snowball fight and making a dreadful ruckus which could be heard even through thick windowpanes.

In addition, the children would always get rowdier as Christmas drew nearer. Squeals of excitement would become more prominent, snowball fights became more intense and generally the atmosphere became thick with joy and cheerfulness. Once, in a shout of laughter, a snowball had hit right smack on _his_window, startling him out of the book he was reading. With the feeling it had been intentional, he was furious and had made sure that the culprit had a little… accident that would ensure he would not be participating in snowball fights for the rest of that winter.

At nine years old, he felt he was already too old for silly things such as playing in the snow. For one, he would dirty himself when the snowflakes clung to him and Mrs Cole would go off into a long lecture about how he should be more careful; and for another he was not one for wasting time by busying oneself with trivial and meaningless endeavours. He would much prefer to stay inside the warm orphanage reading a book, which was definitely considered as something _productive_ as opposed to rolling oneself in the freezing snow and achieving nothing at all_._

Shivering, he wrapped the thin grey coat tighter around himself. Another reason why he detested winter – the cold. Even though the orphanage had a good number of heaters, the chill had somehow managed to seep through the dreary grey walls, wrapping its icy fingers around everyone. Tom could withstand cold – he would rather die than admit he was weak – but when temperature dropped into negative numbers, even he could not stop his teeth from chattering together.

There was a third and last reason he loathed winter – the most important one.

His birthday.

His wretched birthday, which nobody at the orphanage bothered to even remember or celebrate even though it fell on New Years' Eve. The silly day which he usually spent alone, huddled on his bed reading a book. Meaningless and insignificant, his birthday only served as a reminder that no one wanted him; that he was nothing, _nothing_more than an orphaned boy even though deep down he reassured himself that he was special.

Every year that cursed day would dawn, mocking him.

It was the sole reason he hated winter.


	2. What Made Him Different

**Title: What Made Him Different**

**Summary: Peter Pettigrew was just another wizard, but what made him different was that he knew things others did not.**

**Author: whirlwinds of watercolours**

**Character(s): Peter Pettigrew, mentions of Remus/Sirius and Marlene McKinnon**

**Rating: T for mentions of sex and abuse**

**Word Count: 383**

**Written For: The Hunger Games Competition Round 2; 'As Strong As We Are United' Competition**

**A/N: This is my first time writing slash and smut, so I hope it's okay. Unbetaed, so do tell me if you spot any mistakes!**

* * *

They saw him as just another unremarkable, normal schoolboy.

No, there was nothing special about Peter Pettigrew. True, he may be a part of the infamous Marauders, but that was about it. He had As bordering on Ps; he was quiet but outspoken when needed to be, with an occasional sense of humour.

But what they did not know about him; what made him stand out from the rest of the crowd was that he _knew_ things others did not.

He was the best person to go to if you wanted to solve the mystery of your disappearing quills or to secretly find out the grade McGonagall gave you on your Transfiguration essay you were sure you had failed. Being a rat Animagus, he had the exceptional ability to sneak into places to find out information that out of others' reach.

He knew that behind closed doors – or closed curtains, depending on how you look at it – Remus and Sirius were secretly involved. The creak of the floorboards would be heard as the two of them got up in the dead of the nights, off to the Forbidden Forest for another late night rendezvous. Their scents would overpower his nose as they stumbled back into the dormitory, a mixture of sweat and bliss, the aftereffects of sex. Coveted glances sneaked at each other during classes would be seen by him, as the aroma of Potions hung around them like a thick cloud.

He knew that the popular ice queen of Hogwarts, Marlene McKinnon, was being abused at home. Dark bruises would decorate her lithe body whenever he saw her she stepping off the train from London and as always, she would try to pass it off as an accident, but he knew better from grimace on her face and the flinches when her parents are mentioned. Pitiful sobs would be heard as he passed the girls' bathroom near the Ravenclaw Tower late at night, no doubt trying frantically to cover the fist and finger marks with magic in vain. Every Christmas, he would see her name written in elegant script on the list of students who signed up to stay at Hogwarts, without fail.

Peter Pettigrew was just another wizard, but what made him different was that he knew things others did not.


	3. Wrong

**Title: Wrong**

**Summary: It is all wrong, but yet he holds his head high. Because grudges run deep and scars still sting, the last thing he would do is to become Potter's friend. Everything is just an act.**

**Author: whirlwinds of watercolours**

**Character (s): Draco Malfoy, with Harry, Ginny, and Astoria**

**Rating: K plus**

**Word Count: 220**

**Written For: Chopped Fanfiction Competition; 'As Strong as We are United' Competition**

**A/N: Many thanks to Emma Quinn for looking through this! This is the first time I'm doing post-war but before the epilogue, so I hope it's acceptable. To be honest, I'm quite tired of all the fics which portray Draco as an angel after the war. It isn't that easy to forget and let go, you know.**

* * *

It is all wrong.

He feels wrong here, gleaming green and shining silver among the red tones and the golden hues of the room. Although he holds his head high as he strides purposefully to the bride and groom with Astoria by his arm, he can sense the whispers that follow in his wake and the pointing fingers that jab at him. They are wondering, he knows, why Draco Malfoy, of all people, was invited to the Boy Who Lived's wedding.

As for the answer, even he himself does not know.

But yet, he greets Potter and Weasley – or rather, Mrs Potter now – with a beaming smile like they knew each other as best friends for years. His prediction of the camera flashes exploding in front of his face comes true, even though he absolutely detested Divination and even more so Trelawney.

His face hurts from all the smiling, but yet he still manages to maintain somewhat of a smile – or grimace, if you prefer – as reporters bombard him with questions on their reconciliation. He answers every one of them with the politeness of a charming Malfoy and he is sure that they all fall into his clever trap.

Because grudges run deep and scars still sting, the last thing Draco Malfoy would ever do is to become Potter's friend.


	4. The Wedding of the Century

**Title: The Wedding of the Century**

**Summary: To them, it is the wedding of the century, but to him it was much, much more than that.**

**Author: whirlwinds of watercolours**

**Character(s): Harry/Ginny**

**Rating: K plus**

**Word Count: 137**

**Written For: GGE: Lady; "As Strong As We Are United" Competition**

**A/N: I'm so, so sorry for the lateness of this! Don't worry, Lady, I'll be writing you something else so as to hit the required word minimum of 800. Hope you enjoy this!**

**Credit goes to my beta _Emma Quinn_ for making sure there are no mistakes!**

* * *

"It's the wedding of the century," the newspaper headlines blare, but he ignores them as he carries on with his morning routine, like it's some ordinary day. But it is not.

Less than a few hours later, he stands in front of the altar, butterflies fluttering in his stomach and nerves twisting and turning. Honey brown eyes hold his gaze steadily as the wizard priest finishes the last of his line.

"I do," he murmurs, and there is so much hope and promise in those two words that he can see the tears starting to form in her eyes; tears of joy and happiness. After the chaste kiss, he takes her warm hand in his own and turns to face the crowd, despite those flashing cameras and prying questions.

It is the beginning of a new adventure.


	5. Power

**Title: Power**

**Summary: They say power corrupts. **

**Character (s): Blaise/Pansy, Colin Creevey**

**Rating: T for torture**

**Word Count: 249**

**Written For: Hunger Games Competition**

**A/N: This is a very pathetic attempt at a drabble. I worship _Emma Quinn _for putting up with all the crap I send.**

* * *

Echoes of the screams of panic in the dungeons filled her head, making a cruel smirk curve her lips.

That was how she got her kicks – the terror in their shouts would make her heady with power. The more they complained, the happier she felt.

Because if there was one thing Pansy liked, it was being in control.

Placing her hand on the cold, rough surface of one of the doors, she pushed it open, only to be greeted by the revolting Mudblood launching at her.

With a yelp of surprise and of disgust, she fired the first spell which came to mind – the Cruciatus curse. As soon as the crimson red light hit his form, he was reduced to a pathetic ball on the floor, contorting in pain.

"Oh, Merlin's pants!" she exclaimed mockingly, placing her hand over her heart dramatically. "I didn't expect that simple spell to have such a serious effect! Maybe it'll teach you not to try to sneak into Hogwarts again, Creevey," she snarled, her voice changing into a harsher tone with the last sentence.

Leaving him whimpering on the floor, she strode out of the chilly dungeon room where Blaise stood waiting on the other side, nodding with approval. "A job well done, princess," he grinned, giving her a peck on the cheek.

"It's a pity he's going to be shipped to the Ministry tomorrow," Pansy said, without a hint of emotion in her voice. "It's always the Mudbloods who scream the loudest."


	6. the weasley beauty

**Title: the weasley beauty**

**Summary: the weasley beauty, she used to be. the weasley beauty, she is no more.**

**Character (s)/Pairings: Scorpius/Rose**

**Rating: K plus**

**Word Count: 142**

**Written For: The Freeverse Competition**

**A/N: A thanks to _Emma Quinn _for betaing this. My first Scorrose, dedicated to Liza and Nayla just because. Also, a happy (rather late) birthday to Chloe! Hope you like this!**

* * *

_the weasley beauty,_

they used to whisper

fingers pointing and gazes boring

amidst the crowd of the staring.

/

_the weasley beauty_

she was, with her pale cerulean eyes and flaming red curls

plus cheekbones finely shaped to cut glass

she was easily the prettiest in the class.

/

_the weasley beauty,_

is what he would tease her with

when he was feeling jokey and she annoyed

but later on, he might just find his homework destroyed.

/

_the weasley beauty,_

she used to be

before the grotesque accident happened

leaving her a wreck and saddened.

/

_the weasley beauty,_

she used to be

but now her unblemished face is marred

by the deep markings of permanent scars.

/

_the weasley beauty,_

he will still call her

that much he had promised on a sunset in sandy shores

even when she is a weasley beauty no more.


End file.
